


Fugitive of Forgiveness

by IdleLeaves



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-01
Updated: 2005-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdleLeaves/pseuds/IdleLeaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius deals with grief.  Remus deals with Sirius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fugitive of Forgiveness

The owl came Thursday morning, when the sky had begun to lighten and the night's rainfall had tapered off into a heavy mist. Remus pushed up the sleeves of his worn flannel pajamas and opened the kitchen window, gooseflesh rising on his arms at the chill in the damp air. Taking the envelope, he turned it over in his hands with a frown. Letters stamped with the familiar black-and-green family crest were rare deliveries to their flat; they tended to leave Sirius raging for hours, and touchy and irritable for days afterward. Remus lingered at the bottom of the stairs leading to their closed bedroom door, but a moment later had decided to ignore his curiosity. He closed the window, and placed the letter where he knew it would be found.

It was open on the table that evening and the flat was quiet. Remus made tea at the counter, vague guilt pooling in his stomach as he let himself glance at the parchment, the ends still curling, out of the corner of his eye. The sharp, angular quill-strokes were difficult to read, from a distance, and few words were legible.

_Memorial_, he finally made out, and contemplated turning his head to read properly. _Dusk_, next.

_Brother_.

Remus closed his eyes.

The door slammed shut upstairs, startling him. Remus had a fleeting thought that he'd been saved one particular worry, but the relief evaporated as Sirius came into the kitchen, sullen and silent. He took the tea that Remus offered with nothing more than a nod and a grunt, slinging his coat over a chair and thumping down at the table.

Remus slid into the chair across from him, watching calmly as Sirius traced patterns in the wood-grain with his fingertips, hair hanging across his face. Eyes downcast, jaw tense, Sirius took a sip of his tea, sloshing it onto the saucer when he set it back down. Remus' fingers brushed over his, calming the fidgeting, but his other hand moved instead, crumpling both the letter and its envelope.

"He got what he deserved," Sirius said, in a measured tone, voice hoarse like he'd not spoken in days. Remus sighed.

"Do you really think," he began, staying neutral, staying quiet, "that he des--"

Sirius' chair scraping against the floor effectively cut Remus off. "Right," Sirius said, but not to answer the question. He took his coat and tucked it under his arm. It was raining, hard, and he closed the door behind him. Remus pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, and rose from the table to collect the teacups.

There was little sense in expecting him home early.

The next time Remus noticed the clock it was striking one, and he was turning another page. The wind had picked up, whistling around the corners of the adjacent buildings and driving the rain down. Leaves stuck wetly to the window glass, half-bare branches clicking softly against the panes.

Heavy footfalls on the stoop served as Remus' warning, then Sirius was shaking the water from his hair and kicking off his boots. Remus read the page a second time, aware of Sirius dripping onto the mat in silence, then raised his eyes.

"How's James?" he asked, with a smile he didn't quite feel. If there was a flicker of guilt in Sirius' eyes behind the instinctive, defensive defiance, Remus couldn't see it in the firelight.

"Fine," he answered. "I'm going to bed." Somewhat unsteadily, he turned toward the stairs. Remus returned to his book.

Once the fire had burned itself down to embers, Remus extinguished it with a wave of his hand and a whispered word. He took his time re-folding his blanket onto the end of the sofa and placing his books back on their shelf, then opened the door at the top of the stairs and left it ajar, getting undressed in the near-darkness.

Sirius was curled up at the edge of the mattress, eyes closed and breathing shallow. The bed frame creaked alarmingly as Remus attempted to crawl over him, and he winced as his knee caught Sirius in the thigh; Sirius, though, didn't so much as twitch, and Remus sighed in relief. He stretched out under the covers, pulling them up over Sirius as well, and smoothed Sirius' hair back from his face with his fingers.

Remus was just beginning to relax into sleep when the mattress shifted, and Sirius' hand banged against his shoulder. He moved again, sliding his fingers around the back of Remus' head and rolling onto his stomach. The reek of liquor was strong on his breath, and his hair touched Remus' face before his lips; it was a needy, even desperate, embrace, and Remus thought for a second that he'd suffocate under the weight of it all.

The heaviness that had settled in his chest didn't fade when Sirius unexpectedly slid away.

Remus rubbed his tired eyes, and Sirius lay down again beside him, close enough this time for Remus to feel breath against his shoulder. Sirius' chest rose and fell in a long, deep sigh. His eyes closed.

The rain drummed steadily on the rooftop and windowsills; Remus' eyes stayed open, watching the shadows the street lamps cast onto the wall, silhouettes of branches in the wind.


End file.
